


So Into You

by cyanoxile (shikinami)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Bisexual Harry Potter, Fluff, Gay Draco Malfoy, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 04:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shikinami/pseuds/cyanoxile
Summary: Draco falls in love with the golden voice of a masked Marauder.





	So Into You

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 38th birthday ( _and_ Pride month), Draco! It’s still your birthday in some parts of the US!
> 
> I’m afraid this is unbetaed, please beware of the grammatical inconsistencies and general cluelessness on British things. Hope you still enjoy it though!

“Pansy Iphigenia Parkinson, you are a huge cow. The _hugest_ cow I have ever come across in my entire life.”

The claws lodged against Draco’s arms burrow deeper. Good thing he’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

“Oh do shut up darling, whinging is so unbecoming of a handsome, young man such as yourself.” Pansy rolls her eyes and pulls Draco to sit down next to her on the bench, with a little too much force than necessary. The _cow_. If she wasn’t such an old friend (and therefore privy to many of Draco’s more sordid secrets) then Draco wouldn’t be subjecting himself to such disrespect.

“I am _not_ whinging. I am simply expressing my discontent over being held against my will and manhandled like a commoner.” Draco huffs. “I expected more from you, Pansy, really.”

Pansy snorts, loud and undignified. It accentuates her nose even more. “If I didn’t pull you out that pigsty you call a flat, then you wouldn’t stop brooding in just your pants until you forget the outside world again.” She rubs at Draco’s arm and _finally_ lets go. “I am merely breaking your sulk streak. It does not even make any sort of sense why you’re sulking. You’re not the one who got dumped.”

Draco frowns at her, partly because she dared mention in broad daylight of his pants-only brooding, and partly because she’s not wrong. If she’d left him in his sulking, he most likely won’t be going leaving the flat except for accomplishing requirements or taking exams. All because he just came out of a breakup of his own devising. Really, it’s Henry’s fault for always talking too much and not having light enough eyes. Draco can’t even believe he’d survive dating him for almost three months. His only saving grace is he really did know how to use his mouth on other aspects as well.

He throws one last glare at Pansy and turns his attention towards the stage. Draco had wanted to come to the uni fair earlier on, but his breakup was only three days ago and sulking _always_ takes precedence over social engagements. Besides, it wasn’t so fun going there anymore without anybody on his arm. Pansy didn’t count, of course. Women were accessories, not dates.

The next performers come up on stage, and Draco raises a brow. All five members wear masks that covered half of their face, but aside from that, they wore regular clothes. Probably part of their gimmick. There was a deer, a fox, a lion, a _sea_ lion, a rabbit, and a horse. The deer—vocalist, looks like—introduces themselves as _The Marauders_. They start with the chords to _Someone Like You_ , and Draco twitches in his seat.

Henry claimed that Draco would be so easy to replace, no matter how handsome or intelligent he is, and that he wouldn’t even feel bad doing so. Screw the three-month rule, he’d said. It would be a good comeuppance for such a rude, emotionally constipated person like Draco.

He could just imagine Henry coming to the fair with his new boyfriend or date. The _slag_.

Draco’s mental castration of his no-good ex halts the moment the vocalist starts singing. Draco _feels_ like he knows this voice, and finds that he’s getting goosebumps. He squints his eyes at the vocalist, seeing nothing of note except that his beard is horribly unkempt and that his voice is colder than the first snow of November. Stupid masks. If they wanted to be more unrecognisable, they should’ve invested in better costumes than just donning commoner wear.

Draco gives up trying to figure out the vocalist’s identity and instead spends the rest of the song staring at the masked face. Eyes closing every now and then, Draco absorbs the music, letting that golden voice fill him. He also pointedly ignores Pansy’s snickers.

The next song starts with a [nice synth beat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jx96Twg-Aew). An original of theirs, the deer says. For some reason Draco feels as if the vocalist was talking to him directly instead of the audience. Draco looks back and frowns—he’s sat at the dead center of the crowd. His heart sinks somewhat, but then he just rolls his eyes and sighs.

The deer opens his mouth and Draco falls in love all over again. His heart breaks in the same breath when the lyrics say “girl” instead. Silently he fumes, as his shoulders move with the rhythm of the song. Traitors.

The deer calls out the band’s name in closing—their set has finished already. Draco finds that doesn’t want to stay in the fair anymore, but Pansy grabs at his arm.

“You’ve that face again. Just wait here, I’m gonna go say hi to someone,” Pansy says as she gets off her seat.

“Like hell I will,” Draco retorts, trailing after Pansy.

Pansy moves towards the side of the stage where she’s met by one of the _Marauders_ —the rabbit. The rabbit pulls up her mask and greets Pansy excitedly. Draco tunes out their conversation, paying attention to his phone instead.

“By the way Lu, this is my best friend, Draco.” Pansy elbows Draco when he doesn’t react. Draco glares at her, but tucks his phone into his pocket anyway. “Draco, Luna.”

Luna doesn’t seem like the type of person he or Pansy would hang out with on a regular basis. She looks far too earnest and hippy-ish with her floral maxi-dress, odd fruit earrings, and long, wavy blond hair.

“Pleasure,” Draco says, nodding at her. She replies with a nod of her own, her straight, white teeth unnerving him slightly. “Your band is good. Do you play often?” A little small talk never really hurt anybody.

“No, unfortunately not. Our friend Ron was one of the organisers in the fair and begged for two songs. Our, um, vocalist, James, only relented if we were allowed to wear masks.”

Draco’s ears perk up and Pansy snorts. “He has a really nice voice. Would you know if goes here as well?”

“What he means is if he’s single and gay,” Pansy offers, and Draco slightly pulls at the end of her hair from behind. “Ow!”

“Mm, I think so, but I’m not really sure? I suppose I could ask later.” Luna nods. “He is single, but not gay.” Draco’s face falls. “He’s bi.”

“I… see,” is all Draco could reply.

There’s a sudden small chime sound and Luna pulls out her phone from her voluminous dress. “I’ve to go now, though. Would you like me to introduce y—”

“No!” Draco clears his throat. “No, thank you.”

Pansy scoffs. “That’s nice of you, darling, really.” She presses closer to Luna and kisses her straight on the lips. Draco’s eyebrow rises to his hairline. “I’ll see you later, Lu.”

Luna waves and trots off. Pansy turns her hawkish gaze on Draco, mouth infuriatingly curled into a smirk. “Really, Draco? That was a nice chance you blew off.” She latches onto Draco’s arm again, maneuvering him to god-knows-where.

Draco throws Pansy a disgusted look. “It’s too short a time to get into another relationship, don’t you think?”

“Who says it has to be a relationship?”

“I’d prefer hearing that voice all the time, thanks very much.” Draco eyes her evenly. “Stop meddling, Pansy.”

Pansy rolls her eyes and sighs. “Fine. But if you change your mind, let me know. Good thing I’ve got Luna’s number.”

“I’m sure you’ve got more than Luna’s number, you tart.”

“You bet I do,” Pansy answers with a grin. “Now I’ve done my best friend and FWB duties for the day, let’s go to Starbucks. I can’t stand the stench of the outdoors.”

“Sounds lovely.” Draco is starting to feel better already.

 

 

 

“Harry, wait up!” Ginny shouts.

Harry doesn’t wait up and instead walks faster, ducking his head through the crowd as he makes his way to the van.

Unfortunately, Ginny catches up to him and hits him on the back with her mask. “Arsehole. I told you to wait up.”

“You’ve caught up already, pretty sure I didn’t have to slow down.” Harry shoots her a baleful look, but she only responds with a huge, shit-eating grin.

“Pretty sure you’ve burned a hole on the git’s huge forehead.”

Harry exhales, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Shut it, Ginny.”

“Ohoho! So it _really_ was Malfoy that I saw in the audience!” Ginny’s face lights up as she pushes Harry into the van. Hermione turns to them from the passenger seat, looking all unimpressed.

“Malfoy was in the audience?” Ron says, starting the engine. “I didn’t see him earlier.”

“Yeah, because he only came during our set!”

Harry’s heart skips a beat. He hadn’t paid attention to the audience prior to their performance, because if he did, then he would get even more jittery. Stupid Ron and Hermione. The only reason he even agreed to perform was because they guilt-tripped him into doing it. Plus they readily agreed to wear masks and call themselves _The Marauders_ —the two stupidest things Harry could come up the time they asked.

To be fair, he still hadn’t paid attention to the audience even during the performance. He was too busy staring back at Draco Malfoy’s beautiful face and keeping himself from messing up the lyrics.

“Who’s Malfoy?” Dean enquires from the back of the van, leaning forward towards the backrest of Harry’s seat. Seamus, who sits beside him, does the same. Horrible gossips.

Luna’s blond head _finally_ rears itself. “Hello,” she says, with the too-serene smile that she always sports, climbing up into the van and pulling the door shut. Ron drives off as soon as she’s settled.

“What took you so long?” Harry demands. If she’d only arrived earlier then they could’ve occupied the seats behind and he wouldn’t have to be seated beside Ginny.

Luna replies with a smile. “Ran into a friend, Pansy—”

Hermione turns back. “Parkinson?”

“Yes, and her friend—”

Harry’s eyes widens. “Where did you even meet Parkinson?”

“Tinder.”

“Her friend, Draco Malfoy?” Ginny grins at Harry.

Luna nods. “His name is Draco, yes. Do you know him?”

Ginny snorts. “You should’ve invited him over. There’s still room for one!”

“I did. He seemed interested in James, you see, but then he refused my offer.”

Ginny lets out a high-pitched cackle. “Hear that, James? He seemed interested!”

“So who is Malfoy anyway? Fill us in, you wench,” Seamus asks Ginny, but pokes at Harry’s shoulder.

Harry groans, catching his face with both hands. Hermione mutters something like _oh goodness_ , Ron stays resolutely silent, and Ginny continues laughing, like the witch that she is.

“Oh man, I am going to enjoy telling this story.” Ginny nudges his side. “You sure you want _me_ to tell it, Harry?”

Harry groans again, glaring at Ginny. “Malfoy’s the football captain at Slytherin School.”

“Weren’t you also football captain?” says Dean. “Gryffindor and Slytherin were always head to head when it comes to football, right?”

“Right,” Harry nods.

“What’s so special about him then?” Seamus pipes in.

Ginny straightens, her grin as wide as her face now. “Harry’s got a _massive_ crush on Malfoy!”

“Oh boy,” Hermione mutters, much louder now, while Ron just lets out a sigh.

“Shut up Gin,” Harry grits through his teeth, trying to fight all the blood rushing to his face. “It’s not a crush, just… sportsmanly admiration you know. Yeah, that.”

And it really was, now that Harry thinks about it. Ever since he’s shared a field with Malfoy back in a couple of years back, there was nothing but arguments and trash-talking between them, as was tradition between their schools. It didn’t mean that he never realised what a talented and hardworking player Malfoy was, though. It just pissed Harry off at the time, because he couldn’t believe he was being objective about an acerbic, elitist git like Malfoy.

“Staring at Malfoy’s arse after every game is _not_ sportsmanly admiration, you knob,” Ginny says as she ruffles his hair.

Everybody laughs, including Ron. Face scrunched, Harry sinks into the seat, letting Ginny hit as much as she could as she starts regaling Dean, Seamus, and Luna about his lovesick mishaps.

What she omits in the stories is that she and Harry dated then, therefore witnessing many of those embarassing moments.

He’d ranted to Ginny about how unfair that the world by giving a posh wanker like Malfoy an amazingly strategic mind and good looks. One day she got sick of it and pointed out that Harry was more interested in talking about Malfoy than talking to her. The only reason Harry still has his testicles intact is because her older brother Ron wasn’t too mad about that, claiming ‘better blokes than my little sister.’ Besides, Harry got him together with his best friend Hermione, and now they’re sickeningly in love with each other.

That had been Harry’s bisexual awakening.

Now, everybody in the van was finding so much amusement in it, even Ron and Hermione had started to chime in. Harry crosses his arms and lets out an indignant sigh, glaring at each and every one of them in turn.

Stupid, sexy Malfoy, coming to ruin Harry’s life again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hermione, come on,” Harry whines as he runs after Hermione in the hallway. Hermione ignores him pointedly, instead keeping her nose on her book—and really, that was dangerous, not looking at where you’re going. “I know you haven’t started your revision notes for PolSys yet!”

If Harry were being honest, he actually enjoyed taking up International Relations. After Sixth Form, he didn’t know what else to do and didn’t fancy doing professional football—or any kind of job for that matter—so Hermione suggested university. Since he hadn’t _any_ idea on what to study, he opted to just copy whatever Hermione was doing, and surprisingly he passed the entrance exams. Harry enjoyed his courses, he really did, even though he didn’t pay attention to current events before.

Unfortunately for him, he’s a painfully average student and an _atrocious_ test taker. If he ever wanted to pass any exam, he would definitely need Hermione’s help on revisions. Their friendship had started like that, actually. Back in secondary school, Hermione would tutor him on most subjects, and he would give him pointers and unorthodox ways to understand Maths and Logic in return.

Hermione mutters under her breath, something that sounded like _I thought I was finished with this_ , just as Harry catches up with her. He grins.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just make notes on your own,” she grumbles, stopping in the middle of the hallway and looks at the door numbers.

Harry stops beside her and pouts. “I am! I’m making notes for the three other subjects and I’m just nicely, _politely_ asking you if you could make your notes on PolSys _not_ the size of an ant. _I_ don’t understand why you have to write so small on your revision notes when your other notes are reasonably sized.”

Hermione inclines her head to his direction, then her eyes widen, and Harry’s back blooms with the pain of colliding with another body.

“Watch where you’re going, you insufferable twat!” screams—

“Malfoy?” Harry whispers, before he remembers where he is and glares at Malfoy, who is gaining his bearings. “ _You_ watch where you’re going!”

Malfoy’s head snaps up, for a moment staring at him blankly, then glares back. “Potter! What the hell are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here? I study here, tosser!” Harry pulls at the ID that hung around his neck and shoves it into Malfoy’s face.

Malfoy stares at his ID for a few good seconds, face turning sour, before going back to glowering at Harry. “Well stop loitering in the hall, people have important shit to do!”

Before Harry could even come with a retort, Hermione grabs him from the back of his shirt, pulling him closer to the wall. Malfoy all but runs away, his footsteps loud against the otherwise silent hall.

Harry watches as Malfoy flounces and disappears into the corner. He lets out a loud sigh, wishing Malfoy didn’t run so fast so Harry could appreciate more of that pert arse jiggling.

“Harry!” Hermione hisses, smacking him on the side of the head with a rolled up paper. “Stop ogling Malfoy’s bum!”

“It’s such a nice bum though...”

Hermione groans, letting her head fall into the book she was holding.

“Did you know that he goes here?” he asks, craning his neck towards the direction where Malfoy disappeared. “I’ve never seen him around.”

“I didn’t know until today. Looks like he’s from Applied Sciences though, he’s got a green ID lace.”

Harry hadn’t even noticed that detail, too distracted trying to commit Malfoy’s face to his memory, now that he’s seen it up close. Seeing him in the fair was nice, but it has been a while since they’ve been in such close promixity to each other. Harry had missed breathing the air that Malfoy exhaled.

Hermione smacks him on the side of his head again, and he schools his features into something less lecherous. She lets out a loud, long-suffering sigh. “Why don’t you just ask him out, like normal people do when they like someone?”

Harry _literally_ gasps, staring at his supposedly smart best friend in horror. “Are you _mental_? He hates my guts and would most _certainly_ rip them through my throat if I did.” Hermione rolls her eyes. “I’m fine with ogling.”

“That’s really rude and creepy, Harry.”

“It’s safer like this, you daft woman!” Harry tiptoes and peers towards the end of the hall again. “D’you think if I hang at the AppSci building I’ll see him?”

“Harry James Potter, are you thinking of stalking Malfoy?” Hermione looks horrified.

“Stalking is such a harsh word, I’m merely watching,” Harry grins.

Hermione lets out a withering noise and fishes her phone out, no doubt to rant at Ron. “I don’t have the mental capacity for this,” she grumbles, then swiftly walks away from Harry.

“Hermione, wait!”

 

 

 

Draco drops his kilometric ton of readings on top of the table and parks his arse down. Pansy doesn’t budge—doesn’t acknowledge his existence _at all_ —and Draco fumes. But he’ll get her later.

“Do you know who I bumped into earlier? And I mean literally bumped?”

The broad raises an eyebrow but doesn’t look at Draco, and continues swiping on her phone. “Hm?”

“Parkinson! I’m talking to you!” Draco hisses, already tempted to roll a napkin and throw it square on her pug nose. He doesn’t, because he’s grateful that she’s got him his usual lunch order—penne pesto and iced green tea. She might poison those in the future if he does. Instead, he stabs on his pasta and grips on his tea cup, slurping on it to curb the urge.

“I’m listening, you drama queen. Who ever did you bump into?”

“Potter, that’s who!” he screeches as covertly as he could, because he didn’t want anybody else paying attention to his ranting.

 _Finally_ Pansy looks up and fixes a sharp, (fake) ice blue eye at him. The side of her mouth quirks momentarily then she goes back to her phone. “I didn’t know he goes to Hogwarts as well.”

“I didn’t know either!” Draco exhales loudly, stabbing a pasta particularly hard and glares at it when it crumbles into two.

University of Hogwarts is not an easy university to get into, so it’s so surprising to Draco to see Potter’s mug along its halls. Potter’s friend Granger—who Draco belatedly recognised as standing there too—he could understand, since he’s seen her in more academic settings back when they were all in Sixth Form. But a meathead like Potter getting into Hogwarts is almost preposterous.

It’s funny that Draco was ever acquainted to an imbecile like Potter, as funny as the fact that a delicately waifish homosexual such as himself had been the captain of a football team. Well, at the time nobody except Pansy knew that Draco was gay anyway. Nobody would dare think of Mayor Lucius Malfoy’s son like that, either.

Fortunately for Draco, he’d been interested in football ever since he was still a boy. He didn’t care for involving himself in it—just watching and coming up with plays was enough—but his father had insisted that he took up a _manly_ sport through Sixth Form to prove that he was a well-rounded individual. Never mind that Draco was consistently at the top of his class and getting sent into different academic forums and competitions throughout the UK _and_ the continent.

Draco wasn’t exactly the best player and often stood in the sidelines to let his better and burlier team mates to take the field. However, he _is_ a brilliant strategist. He’d like to think that he made captain because of this and not because of his surname. Outside the practises and games though, he didn’t particularly enjoy the sport anymore so he didn’t bother socialising. He found that football players were usually quite gormless and boorish anyway.

Harry Potter of Gryffindor Academy had been the most gormless and boorish of all the players he’s ever come across. Not that Draco expected anything less—most Gryffindors were like that (perhaps with the exception of Granger, but who really knows). Potter was so very aggressive in and out of the field, never failing to insult or take the piss out of Draco and his team mates. Draco would try to take the high road but the Malfoy temper was legendary and he’d already be sniping most of the time. Potter also visibly enjoyed this primitive show of dominance, the neanderthal.

With the exception of a bulky body, Potter was pretty much the epitome of a mindless jock. He even had his very own fan club, and always had his girlfriend hanging off his arm after every game. His only saving grace is that he was quite a gifted centre forward, but Draco would rather die than to admit it loudly. There were quite a few things about Potter that Draco would rather die for instead of admitting, such as the fact that Potter was fit and very much Draco’s type.

It absolutely incenses Draco that Potter had turned even _more_ fit from the last time that they saw each other. He had such a nice, charming smile on his ID photo too. Had Draco stared more at it, he would’ve certainly become blind.

Draco hadn’t thought of Potter since graduating, actually. He was much too busy with preparing for university and enjoying his days of finally living on his own. His memories of Potter’s abs and sublime dark skin were buried under the numerous summer flings he had prior to uni classes and the string of sub-par boyfriends after.

Besides, Potter is certifiably straight and had the manners of a pig anyway. Draco is obviously better not obsessing about him anymore. It’s just so unfair that he’s got into a prestigious university and gotten even sexier despite ( _because_ , if Draco were being honest) his unruly afro and facial hair.

“Are you quite finished maiming your pasta? I’m not going to get you another one, you know.”

Draco’s head snaps up. He glares at Pansy then looks down at his paper plate, finding that he did manage to ruin half of his food. With a groan, he tries to stuff the decimated pasta into a spoon and shoves it into his mouth.

Pansy smirks, sipping loudly on her metal straw as she continues texting. Draco hopes the bint chokes on her frappuccino.

 

 

 

Luna, Ron, and Neville were already halfway through their meal when Harry and Hermione arrived home. Harry should’ve known better than to accompany Hermione when she’s doing all these errands. Unfortunately, it’s the only way to show his desperation in getting her notes. He could only hope that she’d finally take pity on him.

The scent of tikka masala wafts under his nose as he sits down. He groans, his stomach commisserating with a gurgle.

Hermione chuckles at hims. “How are you so hungry? You were just waiting for me.”

Harry opens his mouth to say that walking miles around the campus _while_ listening to her yap all day made him hungry, but thought better of it. “I’m a growing boy.”

Ron snorts just as a ding rings from the kitchen, then gets up.

“We ran into Malfoy again earlier,” Hermione starts, and Neville chokes on his biryani. Serves him right. Harry glares at him as he fills his plate with the rice.

“As in Draco Malfoy?” Neville asks after clearing his throat. “When did you see him before?”

“The Hogwarts fair, didn’t we tell you? Apparently he also studies there, under the Applied Sciences Department. Probably chemistry or biology related.”

“Yeah, those were his favorite subjects,” Neville agrees.

Harry looks at his two best friends incredulously. “How do you know his favorite subjects?”

Neville tilts his head. “Oh. We talk during the science conferences. We just never got to tell you because… uh,” he looks at askance at Hermione.

“We didn’t tell you because you’d get obsessed about him again,” Hermione answers straightly. Harry glares at her. “Speaking of which, Harry’s been wanting to stalk Malfoy.”

Neville takes a good look at Harry and laughs. “Shall we get the bail money ready for when he goes to jail, then?”

Harry flushes and is about to express his indignation, but Ron arrives with his glorious samosas and instead deflates into his chair. He stuffs a samosa in his mouth angrily, refusing to dignify the libelous statements with a reply.

Luna looks up from her phone and smiles at Harry. “I think you’re going to like our new gig a lot, James.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco pulls his legs close to his chest and glares at his notes and books in the middle of his bed. He’d been planning to study until midnight then go to sleep, but since waking up from his nap three hours ago, he hadn’t been able to concentrate. The weekend before his birthday, he’d done nothing but binge watch Netflix, drink copious amounts of wintermelon tea, and sleep. Pretty pathetic, actually. He wasn’t used to not celebrating the week leading to his birthday, but of course everything had to change when he went to university. He wanted to go out tonight since tomorrow on his actual birthday would’ve been worse timing. But his friends didn’t live near or are studying for their exams, and Pansy wasn’t answering his messages at all.

If this is what being a proper adult meant, then Draco isn’t sure he liked it very much.

The doorbell rings and Draco startles. It’s already—he turns to his phone, still no messages—half past ten. Whoever is bothering him this late in the night better have a good reason. He pads across his flat and opens the door, finding Pansy all dolled up behind it. She pushes the door open and lets herself in, looking at him from head to toe.

“Wash your face, we’re going out.”

Draco frowns and crosses his arms. “I don’t want to. I’ve exams to study for.”

The cow snorts. “Stop pouting. You said your first exam is Tuesday afternoon and I actually have one tomorrow morning, so you can’t complain.” When Draco doesn’t move, she pushes him to the direction of the bathroom. “If you don’t start fixing yourself, I’ll be the one to wash your face and you won’t like it one bit.”

Draco sighs and fixes himself in the bathroom, while Pansy makes herself busy in his wardrobe. She hands him a change of clothing—a salmon undershirt, a crisp, dark gray polo with the sleeves rolled up, and the lightest denims he owns. When he emerges, he looks like he’s ready to meet people. Pansy whistles.

“You need to dress like this more often. A lot more butch than normal, but it’ll definitely bring the boys to the yard,” she says.

“Then I’d look like every other man you see in the street,” he quips, but secretly he’s pleased. It’s not his usual style, he had to admit. He slips on his loafers.

She gives him a look. “Love, with hair and face like yours, you’d never like look like any other man in the street.”

Draco narrows his eyes at her, though his cheeks heat. He knows he’s just being buttered up, but he laps it all up. Internally, anyway. “Where are we going?”

“A pub just a couple of blocks down. But I’m still getting a MyTaxi.” She looks at her phone. “Oh, he’s downstairs already. Hurry up then.”

Draco rolls his eyes and grabs his wallet, keys, and phone, then they’re out the door.

 

 

 

“Surprise!” the whole pub cries.

Draco looks around and is greeted with old, familiar faces singing happy birthday at him off-tune. His heart grow a couple of sizes bigger. He turns to Pansy, who has the smuggest grin on her blood-red lips.

“This better not be charged on my tab,” he says. _Thank you_.

“Please, darling, I wouldn’t do something so gauche,” she snorts. _You’re welcome_. “I just demand that you throw me a surprise party too on my birthday.”

“You hate surprises.”

Pansy smirks. “Time to get creative, then.”

Slinging an arm over Pansy’s shoulder, Draco turns toward the lot who raises their mugs to him. His smile stretches as far as his mouth allowed him to.

 

 

 

The pub is pretty small—his flat feels bigger actually—but perhaps because it was filled with too many people beyond its capacity. Almost all his football team mates were there, from all three years that he played. It was especially good to see Greg and Vince again, who kept him with stories of the oddest complaints that people from their city had with his father. He could’ve done without seeing Flint though, but when word from the grapevine about this gathering reached him, he practically invited himself.

His childhood friends were also there: Millie, Theo, and Daphne. Even Blaise, who fancied himself emcee for tonight’s festivities, made it. From their last chat, he was supposed to be already in Italy at this time. Apparently Pansy just told him to tell Draco that, though he couldn’t fathom why. Draco made a mental note to get back at Pansy for this. Still, he’s always had a soft spot for Blaise, even if they didn’t work out as a couple before. Draco really did have a thing for dark skin and bright eyes.

Pansy even brought some of the friends he made from the conferences and competitions who lived around the area were there. Granger and Longbottom (who he’d forgotten about, to be honest) were also there, who made small chat before claiming that they had to go for a bit. Draco wondered if they were the only Gryffindors there.

Draco made his rounds with his old school mates, younger relatives who knew he was gay, and a couple of friends he made in his first year in uni. It was exhausting work—he went through three bottles of beer as he did so. Everybody else had been there since around eight or nine and wondered when Draco was getting in. They were a bit afraid of Pansy though, so they didn’t ask a lot of questions and just enjoyed the free booze.

“Draco!” Blaise shouts into the mic from the makeshift stage in front. “Get your arse over here in front, we’ve more surprises in store for you.”

Draco raises his eyebrow but nevertheless obliges, and the people part for him. Once there, Blaise pulls him down to the frontmost seat. Beside him is Pansy, who kisses his cheek and makes a bit more room. The others in the front seats follow suit, and from somewhere on the side, a band comes up on stage.

But not just any band. _The Marauders_.

He turns back to Pansy who gives him the smile of a cat who caught the cream.

The band sets up and the girl in the sea lion mask waves at him. Draco frowns, and then it dawns on him. “Granger!” He waves back. The amazing head of curly hair (and the outfit, honestly) should’ve been a clue.

On the other side, Luna stands, giving him a nod. “Happy birthday, Draco,” she says quietly into the mic in front of her.

The band has set up, but the main vocalist still wasn’t there. As if Draco’s thoughts summoned him, the deer comes in from the side, as if pushed from the back. Blaise snorts into his mic as the vocalist ambles to the centre mic stand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, _The Marauders_!”

The pub applauds and whistles and Draco claps with them, eyes trained on the vocalist. He smiles shyly at Draco and grasps on the mic with one hand, his other resting behind him.

“Good evening, all. Hope you like this one,” the deer—James—says and [the lion-pianist starts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UfQHEpf2q8k). Granger snaps her fingers.

 _With every passing moment_  
_Thoughts of you run through my head_  
_I am slowly realising_  
_I think you’re truly heaven-sent_

James inclines his direction towards Draco. It didn’t seem like he was performing for the pub at all.

 _I think you’re truly something special_  
_Something my dreams are really made of_  
_Let’s stay together, you and me, boy_  
_There’s no one like you around_

It’s as if he’s… _serenading_ Draco. Draco feels his cheeks getting warmer by the second.

 _I really like_  
_What you’ve done to me_  
_I can’t really explain it_  
_I am so into you_

 _I really like_  
_What you’ve done to me_  
_I can’t really explain it_  
_I’m so into you_

The eyes behind the deer mask bear into Draco’s.

 _The way you hold me_  
_Might be the things that you say_  
_I don’t know what it is boy_  
_But I know I like feeling this way, oh_

It’s as if there’s nobody else but the two of them in that space.

 _I think they’re truly something special_  
_Just what my dreams are really made of_  
_Let’s stay together, you and me, boy_  
_There’s no one like you around, ooh_

James removes his mic from the stand, moving away from it.

 _I really like_  
_What you’ve done to me_  
_I can’t really explain it_  
_I am so into you_

He walks towards Draco.

 _I really like_  
_What you’ve done to me_  
_I can’t really explain it_  
_Oh no_

He stands before Draco and reveals the hand from his back, which holds a rose with a white paper tied on the stem.

The crowd goes wild with applause, wolf whistles, and general disorderliness. Millie and Daphne scream behind him and Draco glares at them, but the effect is lost as his face no doubtedly resembles a tomato. Pansy nudges his arm.

James smiles beautifully as Draco accepts the rose. He bends down, close to Draco’s ear, and the screams and noise rise in volume. “Happy birthday, Draco. Check the note later.”

Stepping back, he starts belting out melodies that make chills run down Draco’s spine, then the fox-guitarist starts his solo. James sees Draco’s reaction and winks cheekily.

 _I really like_  
_What you’ve done to me_  
_I can’t really explain it_  
_I’m so into you_

_I really like_  
_I really like_  
_What you’ve done to me_  
_I can’t really explain it_  
_I’m so into you_

He moves away from Draco and goes back to his earlier position, putting the mic back and grabbing at the stand. Draco misses him already.

 _I really like_  
_What you’ve done to me_  
_I can’t really explain it_  
_I’m so into you_

_I really like_  
_What you’ve done to me_  
_I can’t really explain it_  
_I’m so into you_

James extends a hand towards Draco’s direction.

_Hold my hand  
So into you_

The song ends and the pub’s noise grows thrice with the chants of his old football mates, the girls’ shrieks, and the overwhelming round of applause. James gives them all a blinding smile. “Thank you so much!” he starts into the mic. “Again, we’re _The Marauders_! The next song is an original solo by our very own sexy otter, Hermione Granger!”

Granger laughs and Draco along with her. She removes her mask and hits James on his deer forehead, then whispers to him. He nods, then slinks out to the back. Draco’s eyebrows knit and he tries to look to where he was going, when Pansy taps his shoulder.

“The note, darling.”

“Oh!” Draco pulls the note from the rose and opens it, finding it slightly crumpled and clammy.

> Meet me at the entrance of the pub in 20 minutes.
> 
> J

The note is barely legible that the J looked like an H. Normally he found that kind of chicken scratch annoying, but this time he found it endearing.

Draco looks up and Granger starts with [her song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9rwcqJ9QlY). His eyes slide to Pansy, who observes him with a knowing smile. He sneers at her. She laughs, and he laughs with her, relaxing into his seat and letting Granger’s dulcet tones wash over them.

 

 

 

When Draco goes out the pub, he finds that he’s been beaten there. He looks at his watch; he’s actually eight minutes earlier than the agreed time.

James is leaning against the brick wall, hands inside his hoodie pockets, deer mask still on. “Hey,” he smiles, pushing away from the wall. “Happy birthday again.”

Draco moves closer. “Thank you.”

“I got you something.” James pulls out something from his hoodie pocket and hands it over to Draco. A fancy pen with his initials engraved in it, in a nice enough transparent case. Draco’s impressed—the gift was simple, unassuming, but still personalised and apt to his interests. He did love writing with fancy pens. If Pansy didn’t have a hand in this, then he’d eat his socks.

“It’s very nice of you. Thank you,” Draco smiles.

“Hermione and Neville helped me pick it. I’m usually pants at giving gifts.”

Well, it wasn’t as if he _had_ to eat his socks. He laughs. “At least your friends are great gift givers.”

They stand there for a good minute, stealing glances at each other, then looking away.

Draco purses his lips. “Are you ever going to show your face tonight?”

James seems caught off-guard, and sighs. “I hope you’re not too disappointed. Or upset.” He takes off his mask and—

“Potter!”

James—no, _Potter_ —winces, “Told you.”

Draco isn’t disappointed or upset, more… _surprised_. And feeling stupid. He should’ve known, with that perpetually unstyled facial hair, ready smile, and easy-going aura. And being friends with Granger and Longbottom, too! Draco hated how Potter was always throwing him off-balance. “Why the hell do you call yourself James, then?”

“Actually, I don’t. But my full name’s Harry James Potter and Luna calls me James ‘cause she apparently knows another Harry. Dunno. You ask her.”

Draco stares at him incredulously, then finally laughs. “That’s ridiculous.”

Potter laughs as well. “Isn’t it?”

They grin at each other for a few good moments. Potter shoves his hands and bites down on his lip, as if trying to come up with something to say.

Draco steels himself and releases a quiet breath. “I’m sorry, by the way. About the… hallway incident. I didn’t mean to be so rude, but I was already having a bad day then.” He slips a thumb on the pockets of his pants and stands at the balls of his feet, rocking slightly. “Honestly I got more mad because you’ve gotten… fit.”

Potter looks at him, like a deer caught in headlights, then lets out a hearty laugh. “Well, I’ve been mad about your fitness since the first time we met,” he confesses, cheeks darkening a tad.

Draco preens. “So you’ve always thought I was fit, huh?”

Potter’s blush deepens, and he scratches at the back of his neck. “Yeah. You’re pretty much the reason for my bisexual enlightening.”

“Good,” Draco smirks.

The pub door opens with a bang, revealing Pansy. “Are you two done snogging yet?”

One day her vulgarity will give Draco a heart attack. “We haven’t done anything of the sort, you cow!” he hisses, pinching lightly at her cheek. She just cackles and Potter’s face blooms into a lovely color again. “You just had to meddle, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did! I can’t believe you didn’t recognise Potter’s voice, of all things,” she huffs.

“To be fair, my singing voice isn’t too similar to my speaking or screaming voice,” Potter offers.

“Of course it isn’t,” Pansy shoots Potter a smirk, and Draco feels like dying from mortification.

“You’re such a classless cow, Parkinson,” he groans, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“And you’re an uptight, in-denial tosser who won’t get anywhere in life if it weren’t for me.” It was true, too. If it weren’t for their drunken fumbling when they were fourteen, then Draco wouldn’t have known that he was a full-fledged gay man. He couldn’t be more thankful that she’s chosen to stay as his best friend after that.

Potter chuckles and Draco glares at him, then promptly stops laughing and gestures a zipper over his mouth.

Pansy snorts. “Anyway, the two of you can already leave if you want to, I’ll handle this lot over here,” she nods towards the pub. “I’ll bring your presents tomorrow after my exams, Draco.”

“God, you’re such a bitch. I hate you,” Draco says without actual heat.

“I hate you more, you ungrateful ponce,” she snarks back.

“Why would I be grateful if you’re holding my presents hostage _and_ cockblocking me?”

Pansy cackles again then goes up to her tiptoes, kissing Draco’s cheek and hugging him. Draco hugs back, tighter than normal. She waves at Potter and goes back inside. On the side, Potter chuckles.

“She’s quite mean, isn’t she?” Harry says, waving back at Pansy.

“You have absolutely no idea.”

Once the door shuts, Harry steps closer to Draco, looking at him through long, dark lashes. “So, cockblocking, huh? We haven’t even kissed yet.”

Draco’s cheeks feel like one could fry an egg on them, and his heart is thundering against his chest like mad. However, years of proper posture and etiquette had been ingrained so deeply into his bones. So there Draco stands, towering over Potter, even if there’s nothing else he wanted to do but to melt into his lean, muscular arms.

“We’ll have to rectify that, won’t we?” Draco says, putting a bold hand over the juncture of Potter’s neck and shoulder.

Potter snickers and slides both hands against Draco’s still heated cheeks, gently pulling him down. “Whatever you say, birthday boy.”

Bright, green eyes are trained to his grey ones, then drops down to his mouth. Draco closes his eyes and moves closer. With another heartbeat, their lips meet.

Draco could swear he’d never tasted anything sweeter than Potter’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> goodness i love draco and pansy like they are #bffgoals y'all
> 
> this was brought to you by [childish gambino's so into you cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UfQHEpf2q8k) popping into my twitter feed a couple of weeks back, bringing back my crooner!harry idea in full force (yep harry does look a bit like gambino in this one) and errything
> 
> (also sorry i hate uber and would loathe to use them in fic so mytaxi it is, since apparently the uk doesn't have lyft yet)


End file.
